


Poses

by TonySawicki



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, No underage, Nude Photos, Photography, Praise, Soft Ending, Teasing, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27206302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonySawicki/pseuds/TonySawicki
Summary: Damian had never mastered the art of selfies. Tim sent them every other day, from the office, or in line for coffee, or post-workout, hair all tousled and damp.Damian would never admit how much he liked receiving the pictures, how they made him smile in spite of himself, or how he would return again and again to admire them, saved in chronological order in a password-protected folder on his phone. He hoped Tim would never tire of sending them.If he could tire of requesting them in return, however, that might be all right.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 149





	Poses

**Author's Note:**

> Hellooo, I haven't written any Batfam stuff in a while, and none for this pairing, but I've had this sitting around unfinished for quite some time, so I finished it and here it is~!  
> (Ages aren't explicitly stated, but I'm figuring they're both somewhere in their twenties.)  
> Enjoy!

[RR]: _why don’t you ever send me pics?_

Damian had been scowling at the text message for the past several minutes. It was followed by an emoji whose expression he couldn’t absolutely determine, which just made it worse.

It wasn’t the first time, since the beginning of their relationship almost a year ago, that Timothy had commented on Damian’s failure to send an appropriate quantity of selfies, but he always deflected, changed the subject, did his utmost to turn it around into a problem of Tim’s instead. He didn’t like admitting there were things at which he lacked a natural skill, even under the best of circumstances, and the fact that he had poor “selfie game” was too humiliating for discussion.

And he’d gone through that discussion before, with Dick no less. Only a few months into Damian’s starting to date Timothy, he’d gone reluctantly to Dick to ask for some advice on a number of subjects, not the least of which was his ability to take seemingly casual and yet charming photographs of himself.

Dick hadn’t laughed, and for that Damian had been grateful, but even after a painful afternoon of rigorous training (which also could have been called a “photoshoot”), Damian didn’t feel his skill had truly improved any.

“Come on, you’re a college graduate, taking a picture with your phone shouldn’t pose so much difficulty for you. You’re overthinking it,” Dick had said, as if that would make anything better.

There had been many things Damian hadn’t said in return, comments about how selfies were easy for Dick only because of his vanity, or other similar cruelties to cover his own embarrassment. It was thanks to Damian’s learned habit of overthinking that he didn’t lash out the way he would have once, and really, Dick ought to have appreciated that.

As it was, though, Damian had never mastered the art. Tim sent him selfies every other day, from the office, or in line for coffee, or post-workout, hair all tousled and damp.

Damian would never admit how much he liked receiving the pictures, how they made him smile in spite of himself, or how he would return again and again to admire them, saved in chronological order in a password-protected folder on his phone. He hoped Tim would never tire of sending them.

If he could tire of requesting them in return, however, that might be all right.

With barely-contained frustration, Damian replied to Tim’s text:

[Me]: _Not all of us have such a natural proclivity for photographing our own faces. I have no interest in wasting time or energy as you do on selfies._

It didn’t take long for Tim to respond.

[RR]: _lol i didn’t mean that kind of pic_

This time the accompanying emoji was an eggplant, and Damian didn’t have any trouble interpreting that one. He felt himself going red as soon as the words processed, and he swallowed, glancing around as if someone might have read over his shoulder, despite his being alone in his bedroom.

He couldn’t be shocked that Timothy would ask for such a thing. They’d been together long enough there was little that could really surprise Damian anymore, but he did squirm in his seat at his desk at the mere thought that Tim wanted to receive photos of an intimate nature.

Was that really something Tim wanted to see?

If it was, Damian was willing to give it a try. That wasn’t the kind of photoshoot he’d experimented with before, after all.

He didn’t waste any time, wrenching his belt open and fumbling in his frantic hurry to get himself appropriately undressed. He cast a look down at his body as he flipped on another lamp, wondering how much he should include in a photo. He frowned. There was too much shadow. He adjusted the lampshade, angling it for something more flattering.

Several minutes were spent going between the various settings on his phone’s camera, trying to capture the most natural atmosphere while still hinting at something artistic and sensual. By the time he found something he liked, his initial excitement at doing this for Tim had waned, and in his frustration, it took a bit of effort to get himself back to a photogenic level of hardness.

He tried. He really did. He must have taken dozens of photos with minutely different lighting, an almost imperceptible shift in pose, but he hated every single one, and his erection could not withstand his increasing anger and vexation.

With an impatient growl, he stood up and got his pants back on. It just wasn’t working. He hadn’t had enough training, and his skill level was insufficient.

Guilty and ashamed, he texted Tim back.

[Me]: _It’s no use. Without proper studio lighting and equipment I cannot get a shot with which I am satisfied._

[RR]: _It’s not that serious. It’s a dick pic, it doesn’t have to look professional_

[Me]: _Perhaps you would be better off taking your own pictures if you want them that badly._

Damian could feel a tension headache setting in from how he was glaring at his phone’s screen. Why did Timothy have to argue with him about it? It only embarrassed him more.

He didn’t expect the response that came a moment later.

[RR]: _shit can i really do that?_

Damian looked at the words in confusion until he finally realized exactly what he’d just suggested Tim could do. He swallowed thickly.

[Me]: _I suppose, given your experience with photography, it would be more efficient._

[RR]: _I’ll look forward to it._

The simple sentence made Damian feel hot all over, and he put his phone aside at last, trying to refocus on the work he’d been doing before Tim had ever texted him.

The entire conversation dropped from Damian’s mind. Weeks passed and nothing on the subject came up again. There was, as usual, too much else going on for Damian to dwell on each individual exchange with his boyfriend as much as he wanted to, but since it seemed that Tim had also quite forgotten it, it couldn't have ranked a very high importance.

Damian sighed against Tim’s mouth, his body pressed to Tim’s as closely as possible. Their night off from patrol, originally intended to be a movie night, had devolved, as they so often did, into heated kissing and touching in Tim’s bed, and Damian wasn’t complaining in the slightest.

He’d come to enjoy Tim’s touch more than he could put into words, and found he needed that physical intimacy more than he cared to admit. Especially in their line of work, so often brutal and violent, working in darkness and washing blood from their skin and clothes afterwards, there was something impossibly gentle and fulfilling about being near someone for the sake of comfort and pleasure.

Tim’s attention moved to Damian’s neck, just below his ear, and Damian’s breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t understand how Tim had managed to learn every one of his weak spots in what seemed like such a short span of time. Tim seemed to pick up on the smallest unconscious admissions of excitement, and took full advantage of what he’d learned. He was continually discovering things that Damian hadn’t even known he liked himself; having never taken much time to experiment with his own body, Damian was in awe of some of the sensations Tim managed to wring out of him.

Yet, outside of a certain knowing smugness, Tim never made Damian feel bad or ashamed for what appealed to him. Damian’s embarrassment was soothed by murmured praise and light touches, and it made him want to give Tim even more control, made him trust Tim that much more deeply. He was always eager to see what they could discover together next.

Tim continued a path down Damian’s body, pushing and pulling clothing out of the way as he went, so he could have easier access to the warm, scarred skin underneath. Damian’s head tipped back as he simply enjoyed the sensation of Tim’s mouth, his lips closing around one hardened nipple, sucking briefly, and then continuing southward. His tongue trailed down Damian’s taut abdomen and circled his navel in a way that had Damian shaking.

He was accustomed to the teasing. He’d come to expect it, knew that Tim liked to make him work for what he wanted, liked to take him apart before he pieced him back together so skillfully. It didn’t mean Damian was willing to beg; even if he wanted that mouth a bit lower a bit faster than Tim was moving, he could endure the sweet torture that accompanied putting himself in Tim’s capable hands.

He was rewarded for it in time, when those hands were undoing his pants and tugging them down, exposing his erection to the air. Still Tim’s mouth was occupied elsewhere, kissing along the jut of Damian’s hipbone, and then down towards his inner thigh. Damian bit his lip to keep from making any demands. He’d learned that getting bossy only encouraged Tim to slow down further.

Only when at last he felt Tim’s lips close around the head of his cock, did he let out a sound, the relief so sweet it was almost painful.

In a distant past, Damian might have been reluctant to admit or acknowledge Tim’s numerous talents, but he was mostly beyond that, and he wasn’t blind to the undeniable fact that Tim was very good at this. His tongue curled around the tip of Damian’s cock while his hand gripped closer to the base, his thumb dragging purposefully over a vein along the underside. It was hard for Damian not to whine, not to buck his hips and bury himself completely in the wet heat of Timothy’s mouth, but he saw it as a test of his endurance and restraint, and concentrated on his stillness, even as that mouth moved down to take him deeper inside.

He did curse as Tim started to bob his head, letting the tip of Damian’s cock graze the back of his throat every time, but never fully choking. Damian was tormented by the terrible, guilty thought that he kind of _wanted_ Tim to choke on his dick, wanted to feel his throat spasm around him, to see the tears spring to his eyes. Damian’s own eyes were closed tight, one arm thrown across them as Tim continued his work, the sounds of it wet and loud in the otherwise quiet room, and when Tim let out a strangled moan around his length, Damian almost lost it on the spot.

He was relieved when at last Tim backed off, pulled up and just went on stroking with one hand for a bit. It gave Damian a chance to collect himself, to prepare for the next bout of blissful torture that was surely imminent.

Then he heard the all too familiar sound of a shutter clicking, and his eyes snapped open.

Damian pushed himself up on his elbows and looked down to find Tim, unabashedly holding his phone, aiming the camera at Damian’s dick as he went on stroking him with his other hand.

Words didn’t come easily. Damian sputtered a few incoherent sounds before managing, “What are you doing??”

“You told me before that I could photograph you,” Tim said simply.

“I know, but that—I wasn’t—This, this is what you meant?”

“If you’re not okay with it then I’ll stop.”

Damian’s pulse was pounding in his ears. He’d never done this with anyone, let himself be _captured_ , so vulnerable and bare, but. He trusted Tim. If this was what Tim wanted…

“You may continue.”

Tim smiled at that, and adjusted his position so he could take pictures more easily. He took the tip of Damian’s cock back into his mouth, swirled his tongue around it, and pulled back off just as a drop of pre was beading at the slit, so he could get a shot of that with his phone.

Damian’s whole body was on fire. He felt incredibly exposed, and this was probably one of the most humiliating experiences of his life, but somehow he didn’t want want Tim to stop. He couldn’t help but think of what Tim might be planning to do with the photos later, how he would save them, keep them in some private file, take them out whenever he wanted to, when he was _alone_. He could imagine Tim’s dark eyes as he stared at photos of Damian’s hard cock, could imagine how he might touch himself as he looked at the pictures, and he found the idea so arousing he nearly moaned aloud.

So he gritted his teeth and didn’t move as Tim carried on photographing him, touching him and arranging him however he liked. It was quiet save for the sound of the camera going off and the occasional murmur of praise from Tim, something Damian was deeply ashamed to love as much as he did, but he didn’t want him to stop for anything.

Tim’s mouth on his nipple startled Damian briefly, and a punched-out sound escaped him before he could cut it off. He couldn’t help but watch as Tim worked on him, eyes closed peacefully, lashes fanned across his cheeks as he sucked on Damian’s nipple till it was pebbled, dark and sensitive. Only then did he pull off to admire his work and take a few pictures.

“Gorgeous," he said softly, his eyes moving slowly over Damian’s body. “I’d love to see how you look all wrapped up in lace sometime.”

Damian didn’t have anything to say back. He thought about asking how much longer Tim intended to torture him like this, but he kind of enjoyed the way he was under Tim’s control, and didn’t want to give him the idea that he was impatient for it to end. Even if that was kind of the truth. It was embarrassing how hard he was, and he knew that Tim wasn’t going to give him any relief until he was finished—but he still didn’t feel the need to hurry anything along.

The last shot of Damian’s chest was of his nipple pinched between the first two slender fingers of Tim’s left hand, and really Damian only liked that more; not just his bare body, but Tim’s hands on him, the evidence that he was being manipulated and toyed with. He let out a breath, and squirmed, thinking maybe Timothy’s little photoshoot had come to an end.

But to his surprise, Tim just said, “Turn over.”

Damian didn’t fully disguise his confusion. Did Tim just want another angle for his photography, or was he finally going to move on, stop teasing Damian so much and give him what he needed?

A light smack on his thigh reminded Damian to stop analyzing and start moving, and he did as instructed, rolling over onto his stomach.

There was a flush creeping down his chest and up to his ears even as he tried to relax for whatever Tim had planned next. He tipped his forehead to rest against his folded arms in front of him, and held his breath, listening to Tim’s hum of appreciation for the new pose.

He felt Tim’s hands on him a moment later, squeezing his cheeks and spreading them. There, he paused, and Damian was grateful that he could hide his face, rather than be forced to confront the humiliation of Tim staring at his asshole.

And there was that shutter sound again. Damian shivered as he imagined just what Timothy was capturing now. He was torn between wanting to see the pictures he was taking and wanting to never know for certain what they were.

“That’s good,” Tim’s voice dripped over him. “You can relax now.”

It was unusual for Damian to not even realize how tense he was, but as soon as he was granted permission he felt himself opening up, a sigh of relief leaving him.

He registered the almost-comforting click of a bottle of lube opening, and allowed himself a smile. He’d done well. And now he would be rewarded with Timothy’s touch, just how he wanted it.

A slick finger was circling around Damian’s hole within seconds, and that—well, it wasn’t enough, but it was a start. Damian could be patient. He knew Tim thought he was an easy target, that he could tease him and work him up without breaking a sweat, but Damian wasn’t going to make it so easy for him this time. He was already worked up, but he’d spent his whole life mastering the art of self-discipline. He could keep his dignity intact until Tim decided to be merciful.

He didn’t have to wait as long as he might have worried; that finger plunged inside him and his body accepted it eagerly.

Damian didn’t let himself demonstrate that same eagerness vocally; some part of him still couldn’t stand to give Timothy the satisfaction. All the same, while his face was hidden he silently mouthed the words he didn’t dare give voice to: _Yes, yes, yes, give me more_ …

A second finger quickly joined the first, tugging at his rim, stretching him open, and Damian pushed back instinctively, trying to take them deeper. He was ready for more, ready to be stuffed full, and as long as he didn’t suddenly give him any reason to, it seemed like Tim wasn’t wasting any time getting him prepared. Damian knew what came next: any moment now he’d be split open on Tim’s hard cock, fucked so good and so deep that his eyes would roll back and his toes would curl.

Except he’d forgotten about one thing: Timothy’s damn photoshoot.

Yet again the sound of a picture being shot interrupted Damian’s haze of lust and desire, and he let out a rather pathetic, whimpering moan as he lifted his head and craned his neck to look back and see just what was going on behind him.

Sure enough, Tim had the phone’s camera aimed right where Damian expected it, and as he watched, another photo was taken of Damian’s hole clenching around Tim’s long, slick fingers.

“T-Timothy, that’s…”

Tim didn’t even look up. “Almost finished, sweetheart.” He scissored his fingers, opening him up wider, and the shutter clicked again. “You look amazing.”

The fire Damian had felt before had all but consumed him now. It was obscene and perverted and depraved, and he’d never been harder in his life. He almost couldn’t tear his gaze away from that dark hungry look in Tim’s eyes. He seemed so perfectly in control, everywhere but there; only his eyes betrayed the almost businesslike manner in which he went on with his task. Damian felt himself clamping down on Tim’s fingers again without meaning to.

“Perfect,” Tim whispered. “Just like that.” His voice was soft, lower than Damian was used to hearing it, more intense.

Once Damian’s eyes closed again, the sound of the camera was just background noise. He couldn’t register much of anything beyond the fullness, the way Tim’s fingers moved inside him, seeking out just the right spot to make him break apart. The photographs that might be captured of this moment seemed wholly unimportant.

And perhaps Tim had finally gotten to the same page, because he pulled his fingers out, and there was the sound of the lube opening again.

“You’ve done so well,” he said. “Just as perfect as I’d expect from you.” He bent over Damian’s back, kissed scarred skin slowly and attentively. “And now I’ll reward you. I know just what you need.”

Damian could only whimper, because he knew it was true: Timothy always knew what he needed.

While he was still distracted by kisses traveling down his spine, Tim’s hard cock nudged against Damian’s hole, and started to push inside, filling him better than any fingers ever could.

He was unaware of the sound he himself was making until it reached his ears, and then Tim was soothing him once more, petting him. “You’ve been so patient. I know, you don’t want to be patient anymore, do you?”

Damian shook his head. When did he _ever_ want to be patient, honestly?

But he couldn’t even be angry with how Tim then laughed at him, because at the same time, he shed all pretense of gentleness and restraint, and grasped Damian’s hips with all that hidden strength, hard enough to leave a mark, and set to fucking him at an altogether brutal pace.

It was exactly what Damian wanted, and even if he meant to keep his feelings tucked away, there was no chance that Tim wouldn’t read him like an open book. His hands clutched wildly at the sheets, and he pushed back, eager for more of exactly what he was receiving.

He was not disappointed. If Timothy was skilled at giving head, he was even better when it came to fucking Damian into the mattress. He hit all the right spots with almost unerring accuracy, and he had so much power in his lean body that Damian felt small beneath him, totally under his control as he slammed into him near tirelessly.

This time, though, Tim had worked them both up past the point of no return, and it didn’t take long for him to lose his rhythm. “You feel so good, Dami,” he said breathlessly. “I’m close, I—Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes,” Damian answered, because he certainly was, any second now, and he didn’t want Timothy holding back on his account. “You can go ahead, cum inside me.”

Tim swore, and lifted Damian’s hips slightly, his thrusts turning fast and shallow as he chased his end. He reached around to take hold of Damian’s cock, but barely brushed his fingers along the shaft before Damian groaned and came, shooting ribbons of white down onto the sheets below them. Tim followed close behind, emptying himself inside Damian with a quiet gasp.

There was an intensity to the silence as they came down from it, only their uneven breaths resounding in the room, but Damian was content to bask in the floaty sort of feeling of it all, the satisfaction that Tim brought out of him so easily, time and time again. He knew it wouldn’t last long, before he became uncomfortable, sweaty and sticky, but for now, he could enjoy the aftermath of release.

Tim slipped out of him gently, and Damian awaited the shift of the bed as Tim went to get something to clean them both up.

Instead Tim’s hand stayed on his rear end, pulling his cheeks apart, and—

The shutter sound of Tim’s phone had Damian pushing himself up on his elbows again so that he could glare over his shoulder at his boyfriend.

“Aren’t you quite _finished_?”

Tim smiled unrepentantly. “Just wanted to get that last shot.” He swiped a finger between Damian’s legs, catching some cum that was leaking from his hole, and casually popped it in his own mouth.

“You are absolutely indecent,” Damian said, fighting back a shiver.

Tim looked down at himself, and at Damian, and shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.” He stood to head for the bathroom, and glanced back towards the bed to add, “By you!”

Damian scoffed, and stood up to start stripping the bed.

He’d barely begun when Tim was back, pressing a kiss to his shoulder and a damp washcloth into his hand. “I’ll take care of that, you go ahead and clean up.”

Damian watched as Tim methodically stripped the bed and replaced the sheets with clean ones, wondering how often he would even bother if he didn’t have Damian there to insist. And yet, he never complained, or made Damian feel that he was an inconvenience. Even on nights like tonight, when Timothy was largely distracted by the camera on his phone, Damian never felt anything with him but loved and taken care of.

He finished cleaning himself up and took the washcloth back to the bathroom, to leave in the hamper. Here, too, he could see the changes that had come about as their relationship had gotten more serious: floss and fluoride rinse in the medicine cabinet, two toothbrushes in a tidy stand, rather than an old plastic cup. It wasn’t always easy for Damian to see what he was providing. He tried, certainly, to give Tim whatever he needed, to make him feel as safe and pampered as he made Damian feel, but his needs were not always ones Damian could anticipate. In this small way, though, it was clear he’d really made a difference; taking care of Damian meant Tim took better care of himself, too.

There was a smile on Damian’s face as he came back into the bedroom and found Tim tucking the corners of the comforter in neatly.

“Just about ready,” Tim said. “You can get under the covers if you like.”

“In a minute,” Damian said. He crossed to where Tim was smoothing out the wrinkles on the top cover and wrapped his arms around him from behind.

Tim leaned into the embrace. “What’s this about?”

Damian shook his head. He didn’t have the words to express how he was feeling, the gratitude that he probably should have voiced ten times as often as he did, but he had to hope that Timothy could understand the message anyway.

Turning in his arms, Tim looked up at him with a nervous tilt to his eyebrows. “So then, tonight, taking those pictures… Was it okay?”

“Would I have let you continue if it wasn’t?”

“No,” Tim said. “At least, I don’t think so. But if you didn’t like it…”

“It was… strange,” Damian said, “to be that exposed. To know that you were _looking_. But I trust you, and in a way, it does give me a thrill to know that you’ll have those photos.”

“Oh, me too,” Tim said, a sly smile pulling at his mouth. “Can’t wait to go through them all later.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, tugged Damian’s hand to get him to take a seat beside him. "Do you want a copy?”

“Not even a little,” Damian said. “But I hope you will enjoy them yourself.”

“And if, sometime in the future, we wanted to take _more_ pictures…?”

Damian sighed. “I am not dismissing the possibility.”

“How do you feel about _costumes_?”

“I prefer to keep them out on the streets, out of the bedroom.”

Tim snorted. “You know that’s not the kind I mean.”

So, with great consideration, and full knowledge that he might regret it later, Damian said, “I’ll wear anything that you pick out for me.”

It was worth it just to see Tim’s eyes light up. “I’ll look forward to it.”


End file.
